Wolverine: The End
by David Golightly
Summary: Now complete! Postapocalyptic scenario of Wolverine's future. Logan was killed and his skeleton stolen...or was it? Discover the last XMan's path in a world not his own. R & R!
1. Chapter 1

**Wolverine: The End**

**Issue #1**

"**RENAISSANCE MAN"**

Part One – Out With the Old

* * *

**/SOMEWHERE IN NORTHERN ASIA/**

"He's unstable, Baron," a shrouded voice said, muffled by the protective sterile suit he wore. "The protein bath isn't helping like we originally thought."

"Just monitor his vitals like you're supposed to and let the real scientists make those observations!" scolded the Baron. His gaze had more than once been the death sentence for his minions, a gaze which he now aimed at the stalwart young man prodding their specimen from inside the sterile chamber. From behind the glass, the Baron watched as the collective minds worked endlessly to restore something of great value.

In the monitor room with the Baron, several men and women stood recording various bits of data that streamed across terminals. They were all experts in their fields…at least what remained of their fields after the Martian attacks. They had survived, as they were part of something much bigger, something that had successfully stayed hidden during most of the occupation.

"We have a pulse!" regarded one woman. She shifted her eyes back and forth between her computer terminal and what lay just beyond them on the other side of the glass, an anxious look on her face.

"You see, Jenkins?" the Baron asked rhetorically, his accent thick. "Those who are quick to judge are usually proven wrong. Finish your analyses and exit the chamber."

Typically the Baron would punish any small amount of insolence he came across, but today he had more pressing matters to be concerned with. After months and months of waiting, hiding, and surviving his organization would finally have what it needed to make its impact in this New World. That thing he had been caring for all this time, that people had assumed was long gone and incinerated, that even the mighty heroes had begun to forget, had just regained its pulse.

A smile crept onto the Baron's thin lips as he crossed his arms over his chest, partially covering the large snake-like emblem encrusted there. The strength of HYDRA would prevail once again, thanks to the new weapon slumbering just behind the glass. When his higher brain functions appeared they would start the programming necessary to ensure his loyalty. After all, the man few knew as Logan had a deep history with HYDRA and wouldn't be compliant.

"The tissue is regenerating around the adamantium skeleton?" the Baron asked, his eyes not moving from the human bobbing up and down in the stasis tube.

"Yes, Baron," a random person answered from behind him. "Tissue growth is currently at fifty-four percent and increasing rapidly. His internal organs completed the restructuring this morning, as did the subject's nervous system. Even though the process was slow at first, we believe that Wolverine will be fully regenerated within the next few hours."

"Perfect," the Baron replied, smiling devilishly.

Tiny bits of flesh and muscle slowly wound together as the cellular makeup of Logan reconstituted itself. At present, his body resembled one that might have been found on the examination slab of a mortician. His skin hadn't yet regrown so most of his muscle and ligaments were exposed, but the nutrient and protein rich chemicals he was floating in helped stop any possibility of infection.

They say all things heal with time. For Logan, his physical lacerations were never a problem when it came to the healing process. His mind, however, was another matter entirely.

* * *

"Where am I?" grumbled the deep and raspy voice of Logan.

His surroundings were hazy for lack of a better word. His vision seemed fine but everything here looked out of focus somehow. It was like someone had smacked the universe and it hadn't quite steadied itself yet. Despite the odd atmosphere, Logan could easily tell he was in a wooded area. Trees towered over him at almost mythical heights and the underbrush was thick and green. Judging from the light, Logan guessed it was slightly after dusk.

Everything here was wrong. The most obvious being how the general vicinity looked foggy and ethereal. The sky, while dark, had no clouds or stars in it. He felt tired and slow, like he had just woken up. What bothered Logan the most, however, was his inability to smell anything.

"Trap," Logan muttered as he fell into a defensive crouch. "Keep alert. Keep awake."

"Relax," a soft and feminine voice said from behind a tree. "Everything is going to be okay. You don't have to worry about the things you used to. You've been given a second chance at life and you don't need to be shackled down anymore."

Logan swung around to face the tree, anticipating any number of his usual foes to pop out from behind it. Still in his crouch, Logan narrowed his eyes to try and cut through the haze but to little effect. The voice sounded familiar but he couldn't quite place it.

"Who are you?" he asked. "Where am I?"

"Who I am isn't an easy question to answer," she replied. "I'm someone you've known all your life, Logan. I'm sorry to say you've forgotten most of our shared past, however. But it doesn't have to be that way anymore! Your mind is healing itself and you can finally understand so much!" Whoever it was, excitement was becoming more evident in her voice. She actually seemed happy at whatever was happening here.

"I don't understand," Logan said, refusing to let his guard down. "What do ya mean my mind is healing itself?"

"Do you recognize this place?"

Logan opened his mouth but no sound came out. He hadn't expected her to answer his question with another question. Standing up slightly and looking around again, Logan took in the large trees and the cool night air. Like her voice, there now seemed something familiar about this tree grove. Things were definitely not as they seemed.

"All right!" he growled. "I've had enough o' this! Come out from there before I take ya out!"

Instead of verbally answering him she slowly stepped out from behind the tree. First he only saw her foot, delicately placed on the ground beside the tree's thickest root. Then her leg, which was mostly covered by a long skirt that seemed dull and ordinary. Next her slender arm that was bare and pale. Finally her face came into view, sparsely covered by her hair, which was a deep red.

"Who…"

"My name is Rose," she spoke softly. "This place is where we used to sit as children and talk about whatever crept into our little heads." She smiled and stepped closer, causing him to step back again, a look of confusion on his face.

"You can't be real…"

"I'm a piece of your recovering memory," said Rose. "That's what this whole place is. A memory. You've been through a lot, Logan. I know this is difficult but now you have a choice to make."

"No," he whispered, glaring at her from across the grove. "No! This isn't real! _You_ aren't real!"

Logan pulled his arms back into one of his signature stances, which he only took when he was ready to bare his claws and fight to the death. He flexed his forearms and listened for the _SNKT!_ that was like music to his ears…but it never came. He hesitated before taking his eyes off of the woman and looking down at the back of his hands. Between his knuckles where there should have been several shards of indestructible metal was nothing but plain skin.

"You're reforming, Logan," the woman named Rose said, stepping even closer. "Your mind is trying to sift through everything that it's been through, using my image to help you make sense of it all. You have a chance at a pure birth, a new life without the weight of your former one. You can finally be who you were meant to be."

It started to make sense now. It wasn't that this place was just part of his mind, but part of his soul. His mutant powers, his bloodlust, his claws…they were all gone here. He was normal. He stood up straight and breathed in, the crisp air filling his lungs as if for the first time.

"I…I died?" Logan asked, surprising even himself. The words hadn't fully been his. It was more of a feeling than anything else, like his recovering mind needed answers.

"Yes," Rose answered, now mere feet away from him. "Your body was destroyed but somehow you've come back to start over again. Your mind was in tatters before, Logan, but you don't have to worry about that anymore. All the manipulations and torment that your mind has gone through has been wiped away."

"I don't…I'm not sure what to do. If you're a memory o' mine and I don't even know you…what does that mean about myself?"

Rose smiled and took another step forward, her face only inches from his own. "It means you finally get to meet yourself. Would you like to know your real name?"

Logan hesitated for the second time, almost scared by the thought of revelation. For so long he had lived without knowing his true identity or where he belonged in this world. He had become accustomed to living a life unlike his peers, always drifting from place to place in search of his own past. To know the truth would mean all of that would be gone and replaced with something foreign to him.

"Tell me," he quietly requested.

"Your name is James," she said. "James Howlett."

* * *

"We're registering brain patterns, Baron," Jenkins said from beside Logan's stasis tube.

"Already?" The Baron stepped closer to the glass, leaning forward in anticipation. One of his eyebrows raised up to form wrinkles on his scarred forehead; countless marks of past battles both won and lost. "Begin the virtual reality programming. The closer he comes to full consciousness the farther away he slips from our grasp. Upload the stormbreaker program at once."

Jenkins nodded in understanding, turning away from the stasis tube to pick up a bulky, metal helmet with various wires extruding from the sides of it. It was cold to the touch, even through his sealed gloved. He paused a moment to reflect on the idea of virtually taking over another person's mind…but quickly abolished the passing thought before the Baron decided he was expendable. Linking the helmet to the terminal, Jenkins turned back to the tube. Technological growth had been stifled since the invasion, but HYDRA had managed to hold onto enough information to redesign the brainwashing process. He knew the process was painful for anyone wide-awake and he could only imagine what it would be like for someone barely alive.

"God forgive us," Jenkins whispered, making sure the intercom was off. The Baron, for all his leadership and worth, had denounced God long ago. He much preferred to play the role of God and take what he wanted. Now, he would have this poor feral creature just as soon as the helmet was in place.

* * *

"You were born and raised in Alberta, Canada," Rose continued. "You mother's name was Elizabeth Howlett, a lovely woman that always struck me as…beautiful."

Logan, or now James, tilted his head forward in deep thought. It all sounded familiar but that was all. There was no click of recognition or splash of images. The information sounded correct but he couldn't corroborate it. He felt that Rose was telling him the truth but he had no real reason other than his instinct to believe her.

"What about my father?" he growled. For years he had suspected some kind of relation between himself and his mortal enemy, even going so far as to think of him as a possible father figure. The idea of it actually being true made him want to vomit, but in this dreamscape, he wasn't even sure he could throw up.

Rose caught her breath before it escaped her lips. Blinking, she tilted her own head forward slightly as if she were trying to choose her words carefully.

"His name was Thomas Logan," she finally answered. "He was the groundskeeper of your family's estate. I…we…we didn't get along very well. He's dead now."

A weight was lifted off of his shoulders, visibly causing him to stand up straighter. Sabertooth, a menace that had followed him for what seemed like decades, wasn't his father. The haze that permeated the surrounding trees actually began to dissipate slightly. For the first time in as long as he could think, hope had entered his soul again.

"These memories," Logan said. "You, this place, my parents…I don't really remember them. I don't know for sure if it's really right or not, but I _feel_ like it is. Maybe I can--"

The night sky caught his attention as it began to change colors. What had once been a deep, deep blue was now churning into a silky gray. Clouds formed along the edges of his vision and lightning danced and arced between them. Rose stepped back in apprehension, bringing Logan's attention back to her.

"What's happening?"

"You have to choose, James," Rose urged. "Quickly, before it's too late."

"Choose what?"

"Don't you recognize this?" She pointed straight up to the clouds swirling overhead, terror plainly showing on her face. "Your mind is being invaded, _again_. I'm afraid you won't be able to stand tall during this ordeal. For now the choice is yours on how you handle this. Soon, however, the choice will be made for you."

"I don't understand! Ya have to--"

From the haze still etched in between the trees two glowing eyes suddenly appeared. They were deep and feral, both soothing and relentless at the same time. Below the eyes appeared a row of white, glistening teeth, sharper than anything he had ever seen before. Saliva slid down the teeth and collected into a large drop at the tips, dripping onto the cold ground.

The creature stepped forward out of the murky shadows, revealing itself fully to him. The animal looked strong and virile, even invincible. The powerful muscles were hidden by a sleek coat of fur that reflected the flashes of lightning coming from the sky above. There was no mistaking what the creature was and what it represented in this place. Logan instantly understood what Rose had meant about making a choice.

"Either I embrace the beast inside of me that has been growin' all these years, or I have to risk this fight on my own."

One of the trees splintered, cracking in half as the clouds overhead lowered closer to them. Bits of wood shot out toward them, gently blowing away in the wind. Rose glanced at the sky and then back to the wolverine that had come forth. She looked sad and grief-stricken, her eyes watering.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "The human mind is a delicate thing and yours has been tampered with so many times. But you don't have to do this alone! You don't have to choose that…that thing!" She took another step back and stretched out her hands, opening them to Logan as her skirt blew in the building wind. "You can choose to be with me. I'm the life you should have led, James Howlett. You're stronger than you think! You don't need that monster to get through this!"

He felt like the choice should have been obvious. Rose was offering him what he always desired and with her he might finally be able to escape it all. But the decision wasn't actually that easy. The truth was that his past scared him. He wasn't sure if he could handle finding out which parts of his life were lies. What if the small traces of happiness he clung to turned out to be false? It shamed him but he honestly didn't know what to do.

The wolverine growled and its fur stood up. It lunged forward, covering half the distance between them in one leap. Logan looked the beast over and in it he saw something infinitely more familiar than anything Rose had revealed to him. Despite the longing he felt for the truth, Logan felt at home beside the beast. It was primal and basic. He understood what it needed and how it functioned.

"Don't take the easy way out, James!" Rose called over the ensuing wind. The storm was growing closer and closer. "I promise you that we can handle anything together!"

Looking into the beast's eyes once more, he turned away from it and ran for Rose, determined to not let whoever was causing the maelstrom above win the fight.

* * *

"We're experiencing some kind of feedback," Jenkins said, a small amount of alarm in his voice. "He's resisting the program, Baron."

"I see." The Baron leaned over the shoulder of a technician sitting at the console in front of him, keeping his agitation in check. The monitor showed spikes in Wolverine's alpha-wave patterns but as he understood the equipment it was nothing to be seriously alarmed about. "Loop the program back and increase the capacity."

"But, that might kill him--"

"Do as I say immediately!" the leader commanded. His voice and accent cracked slightly as the threat of insolence dared to show itself in the puny Jenkins. "The man is practically immortal, you imbecile! Crush his mind or I shall be forced to crush your throat with my bare hands!"

* * *

The wind had changed from a simple whimper to a gargantuan roar. Lightning flashed all around them and the clouds seemed to be practically falling on the pair. As scary as the situation was before, it was downright horrifying now.

"Hold on to me!" Rose screamed. "There's no telling what will happen if you let go!"

He wanted to yell back but the force of the wind kept him from being able to utter a single word. He believed her when she had told him that they could get through it together, but now he was starting to have his doubts.

Lightning tore open the sky, quickly followed by an earth shattering snarl of thunder. The blast knocked him off of his feet and the wind caught him, sending him flailing away from Rose. She reached out but it was too late. He was beyond her grasp.

He pleaded to no one, crying out for the catastrophe to stop. He tried to reach into himself and dig out that familiar primal strength but it wasn't there to grab. The storm tossed him back like a doll and there was nothing he could do but watch as Rose was struck down by a bolt of lightning. Tears filled his eyes as the memory of the woman disintegrated, fragmenting in his psyche. The wind continued to whip him about inside the grove…until a sudden and spiking pain overtook his spine.

He looked over his shoulder to see the lumbering beast from before, his claws firmly planted into his back. The pain obviously hurt but it felt deeper than it actually was. He could feel the pain on multiple levels, and he was almost ashamed to think that he was comforted by it.

The pull of the wolverine was enough to halt his flight and his feet touched the hazy ground once more. Hunching forward, he tried to yank himself free from the beast's claws but to no effect. The tips of the creature's talons were firmly imbedded in his muscle but there was no blood flowing freely. Bending his arm back to the point of dislocation, he wrapped it around the feral animal's head and pulled. The claws finally dislodged, Logan choked the beast's throat with his free hand after grabbing its fur to hold it still.

The wolverine snapped its powerful jaws at him but it couldn't shake free. He could barely here its gasp over the roar of the wind, but it was definitely there. He met its eyes with his own, and delved into the primal instincts that the creature represented. There was a snap of electricity between man and beast as their dual natures mixed, no longer fighting each other like oil and water. He felt power surge up from an almost bottomless well. The beast had not conquered him; he had conquered it.

The storm began to subside as the restless man known by several names tamed the beast within, using its strength to give focus to his mind.

* * *

Wolverine opened his eyes inside the stasis tube. The first thing he saw was Jenkins jumping back in surprise, even though he had been keeping track of the program and knew that Wolverine would probably awaken soon. Next he saw the Baron scream from behind the glass, although whatever he was saying Logan couldn't hear it.

The images from his recent mental ordeal were still fresh in his mind and he instantly knew these men were behind it. His one chance at actual piece had been ripped away from him once again. He recognized the crest on the Baron's chest as that of the villainous organization HYDRA. Rage bubbled up from the bit of his stomach and he ground his teeth behind the breathing mask strapped to his face.

Reaching out with his hand, Logan pressed against the glass stasis tube, noticing his confinement for the first time. His anger tripled as he realized what was going on. Most of his memory now restored, this was much too close to a past experience for him to simply be upset. It was like he was reliving the hell he had experienced all those years ago. He felt the animal inside him demand satisfaction, tearing to get out.

Glancing down at his other arm, Wolverine flexed his forearm. Even through the viscous liquid swirling around him he could hear the sound the animal needed to hear. It was the sound that marked his freedom and the death of everyone in the building. Three long, metal blades erupted from his knuckles, assuring him that he was again in control. With a surge or aggression, Wolverine sliced into the glass housing of the stasis tube, spilling the protein-rich liquid onto the sterile floor.

He was violently angry but it felt different. He didn't blindly crave the fresh smell of blood anymore. Now he had his berserker rage in check, using it to fuel his strength and motivation.

Stepping out, Wolverine placed his wet foot onto the cold floor and stared directly at Jenkins, who was frantically trying to escape the room. Raising his other arm, Wolverine flexed his forearm yet again in order to elicit the signature sound that would be the last thing Jenkins ever heard…other than his own screaming.

"_SNKT!_"

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Chapter 2

**Wolverine**

"RENAISSANCE MAN"

Part Two – To Die Would Be a Great Adventure

* * *

The HYDRA soldier's death wasn't from the two-inch gash along his spleen or even the puncture wound that had resulted in a deflated lung. Covered in his own blood, the young man who had been led astray like so many others choked on the bile building up in the back of his throat, placed there by his stomach's disapproval of being slashed wide open. His death was slow and painful, an ironic ending to the fast and furious lifestyle that his family had disapproved of.

His killer, a crazed but in control animal named Logan by some and Wolverine by others, stood over his still body, breathing deeply. The ferocity in his eyes was enough to scare any opposition but it was the brutality of his killing strokes that shook the rest of his enemies.

"Johnny!" another HYDRA soldier cried out upon rounding the corner at the end of the hallway. Like his dead comrade, this soldier was also a relatively new recruit. In fact, they had joined Baron Strucker's operation together, boasting of how they would run things someday. The corruption in their own lives had made them easy targets for the Baron to recruit, an essential element to all who joined the ranks of HYDRA.

"You sonofa--" he whimpered, anger seething in his voice. He raised his issued weapon at the naked Logan, squeezing off shot after shot. Logan's body jerked back with each bullet piercing his flesh, but refused to fall. Two other soldiers rushed up behind their associate, quickly raising their own rifles and peppering the hallway with lead.

Logan growled in fury but held his ground. One by one, his body forced the compressed bullets out of his internal organs, sealing the wounds behind them. His incredible healing factor was working overtime but it was working nonetheless.

The bullets finally stopped, as ammunition clips are only so large. Despite the soldier's protests, Logan charged down the hallway, scraping his unbreakable claws along the sides as he ran. He was on them in a flash, leaping through the air and thrashing away at vital areas. Bloodspray filled the air, staining the white walls of the underground complex.

Wolverine and several others had dubbed moments like these "berserker rages," implying his animistic nature had taken over completely, demanding satisfaction. Now that his mind had been opened from the poking and prodding of the HYDRA scientists, that rage was under his control instead of the other way around.

A quick backhand from Logan slashed across the final soldier's face, ending the fight. Logan took in another deep breath and sheathed his claws, a physical metaphor of his triumph. He had broken out of the chamber he had awoken in, dazed and irritated. He had been through an experience extremely similar years ago. Even though the alarms were still blaring and the lights continued to flash, this was the first moment of peace Logan had since awakening. He had been running through the hallways of the complex for at least an hour, killing all that tried to stop him. He didn't even know where to go, he just knew he had to get away. HYDRA was never a good element to have in his life.

His mind had always been splintered, even with the help of Professor Xavier and the other X-Men. Before he had awoken, however, things had seemed clear. For once, he honestly believed he was going to find out the roots of his own life. He had died and been brought back, whether by his own mutant powers or the scientists' efforts he didn't know, but upon his rebirth his mind had tried to heal itself. Fragments had come back into place of the man he was supposed to become, a man that didn't desperately crave the blood of his enemies.

A man named James Howlett.

"Stop right there!" a voice roared, quickly followed by the chambering of bullets.

The beast inside him, held under control by what should have been James Howlett, turned its watchful eye in the direction of the HYDRA agents flooding the corridor. Like most events in Logan's life, the moment had gone by all too fast. He wondered if HYDRA had realized what they had done in bringing him back. He wondered if Baron Strucker, whom he had seen cowering behind protective glass, realized what he had unleashed.

What was once blind fury was now calculated cunning. Now that Logan possessed bits of his past and was able to control the animal inside him, he was more dangerous than ever.

* * *

"Dispatch all security details to the underground levels and evacuate all personnel!" the Baron ordered, his thick accent punctuating every word. "I will not lose this facility!"

Safely tucked away in the level three bunker, the Baron and his personal guards waited for the confirmation that Wolverine had been apprehended. He wasn't foolish enough to think his troops would actually be able to kill the human weapon but he had confidence that the strength of HYDRA would be enough to detain the animal.

"Sir, should we prepare your helicopter?" one of the guards asked, keeping his rifle trained on the only entrance into the bunker.

"I refuse to put my tail between my legs," the Baron answered brashly. "No whelp of a dog will displace me from my own organization. He is an experiment, nothing more."

Even though is words were laced with courage, the mighty Baron Wolfgang Von Strucker had his doubts. He had participated in more wars than he could remember, sometimes beginning them, but more often than not finishing them. As a fencing champion in Heidleberg the Baron had gained the fearlessness needed to lead. As a member of the Nazi Party during World War II he had attained the ruthlessness needed to conquer. It was during those years that the Baron had first crossed paths with the Canadian called Logan.

"Hitler finally met his end in a room such as this," Strucker commented. "Hitler, as short-sighted as he was, was still a man of impeccable detail. His reign would have been great if not for his lack of forward thinking."

The Baron reached into a cabinet and pulled out a small satchel from among the contents. "What he would consider a day I would consider a week. To say you can never be too careful is an understatement. Contingencies are for novices. I prefer absolutes."

Walking across the room, Strucker grabbed the arm of a guard and plunged a syringe deep into the muscle. The man knew better than to give any kind of response, standing completely still and trusting in his master. The silver liquid was forced through the thin needle and the guard, despite his efforts, quivered slightly as the chemical mixed with his bloodstream.

"You need not worry, Honoré," the Baron assured his guard. "If by some miracle Wolverine makes it to our door you will be more than ready to disable him."

The animalistic warrior had fascinated Baron Strucker ever since their first encounter, quickly becoming a side project that he would return to every so often. He had uncovered more secrets about the animal than anyone could suspect but it was the immortal possibilities that the Baron craved the most. Even though his age had been retarded in much the same way that Nick Fury's had been, the Baron still felt the ravages of time on his body.

"They say time is the one enemy none of us can ultimately defeat," the Baron whispered to himself.

* * *

Growling intently, Logan plunged his claws into another chest, feeling them penetrate all the way through. Yanking down, he scraped out several organs as he removed his blades. The soldier died instantly, another victim of the exquisite training forced upon Logan.

He had made his way into a large chamber, seemingly used for storage. As big as a warehouse, Logan had stumbled into the room only to be confronted by an entire platoon of HYDRA agents, each of them armed for war. Judging from the lack of windows, Logan guessed the complex must have been mostly underground, which meant he needed to head up. Once he got to ground level he could worry about what to do next. Until then he would take out every single green-clad terrorist he could find.

"Close formation!" the platoon commander ordered the others. "Get back to back if you have to! This bastard is shredding us apart!"

Still naked, Logan crept along between the East wall and a giant container, silently moving into position. The room was a virtual maze made up of the containers, the kind used to transport heavy materials on trucks. If trucks could get in and out of here, then so could Logan. He must be getting near the top by now.

Satisfied that he had moved over far enough to flank the contingent of troops, Logan popped out his claws with a muffled _SNKT!_ and stabbed the metal container. Lifting himself up, Logan repeated the action and climbed to the top. Each stab elicited a soft metallic chirp that reverberated off of the walls and other containers, masking his exact location.

"Where the hell is he?" one of the soldiers asked, terror lacing his words.

"It's only one man; chill out," another said. "We'll pump his guts full o' lead and grab something to eat in the cafeteria."

"You saw what he did to those rookies! They can't even use their dental records to identify them after what _he_ did. I didn't sign up for this."

Logan heard the wet sound of a face being slapped, obviously a tried-and-true tactic to quaffing all fears in subordinates. "Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open," the commander ordered. "You signed up to die if the Baron says you did."

From his perch, Logan leaned forward just enough to see over the edge of the container. There were six of them left, huddled back to back in the center of the room where the floor opened up. From their vantage they thought they had every angled covered, their guns wavering in the air. The commander made a hand motion, signaling the group to disperse between the containers, separately hunting him. The animal in him wanted to rush the pack, tearing into their flesh and exposing their veins before they split too far from each other. The elite commando in him, however, knew that not all situations needed to be handled so carelessly. He was so close to escaping.

Slipping to the back of the container, Logan leaned against a support beam and swung off the container's edge, grasping the rims of the pillar. Shimmying up the side of the support beam, Logan quickly made his way to the top of the room, balancing on the plethora of girders that made up the infrastructure of the warehouse. Two of the HYDRA agents walked up a small staircase to an elevated platform that was home to giant spindles of cable. After a brief hop across two steel girders Logan was directly above them.

Gently stepping off of the girder, Logan fell directly on top of the first soldier, crushing his windpipe under his heel upon impact with the mesh platform. The second soldier spun around, his reflexes pulling the trigger of the rifle. Logan was already on top of him before he completed the turn, however, his claws stabbing into the agent's trachea. The echoing gunfire died off as the gurgling began, the soldier falling limply to the ground.

Two down.

Logan bolted behind a spindle, catching a perfect view of the center of the room on his way. The remaining four HYDRA followers remained completely still from their various positions, their weapons all pointed at the fallen bodies Logan had left for them to see. He saw the fear in their eyes.

The commander made another hand motion, ordering the biggest of the agents toward Logan's position. The soldier had to have been at least six and a half feet tall, a giant by most standards. The other three strafed to the left in an effort to flank where they thought Logan was hiding. Once the giant had come close enough, Logan saw his opportunity.

Tipping over the spindle he had ducked behind, Logan pushed the large wheel forward and down the stairs, causing the thick cable to unwind behind it. Gripping the end of the cable, Logan jumped over the dead bodies and dashed off of the elevated platform, following the spindle as it rolled. His left side, the side the remaining three soldiers were on, was completely blocked from prying eyes by one of the large containers.

"Sweet Moses--!" the large soldier hollered, raising his rifle in surprise.

Logan ran directly behind the spindle, protected from the man's gunfire. Just before the spindle rushed passed the agent, Logan jumped out from behind it, smacking the gun out of his hand and looping the cable around his neck. The quickness of his movements coupled with the unorthodox attack stifled the soldier long enough for Logan to slip behind him and yank on the cable, pulling him to the floor. A quick jab with his claws and the man stopped trying to wiggle free.

The spindle continued to roll but Logan caught up with it, not missing a beat. Running beside it, the spindle rolled passed the container and into the other soldiers' view where it was quickly assaulted by striking bullets. Logan, safely moving beside the spindle, was out of harm's way once again, bounding behind another container and back into the warehouse's maze.

Three down, three to go.

"Jesus Christ…" the commander swore. "This guy is picking us off how he wants. He can kill us at any time. He's just toying with us."

Logan silently moved along the base of the container, positioning himself exactly how he wanted before his final maneuver. The cold steel brushed against his naked body but he refused to shiver, ignoring the cold like he had so many other things in his life. Sweeping steadily behind the container, Logan had moved behind the remaining three individuals who were ordered to kill him. If this were a chessboard then they were his pawns. Ethical principles breezed through his mind but it wasn't hesitation, just an observation. The underlying and unspoken statement of all battles like this remained the same: kill or be killed.

Setting aside his tactics, Wolverine flexed his forearms and popped out his claws once again. He was the best there is at what he did. And what he did wasn't pretty. Like lightning, he moved among the trio, slashing and ripping. In a matter of seconds it was over, the blood already coagulating within their wounds.

He wondered how many more the Baron would send after him until he was satisfied. Should he stay until their forces were exhausted? Arguably, he could leave whenever he wanted. They hadn't been able to even slow him down, let alone stop him. Whereas once the fury of his confinement would make the decision for him, his current mental state offered the option of simply walking away. There was no telling how long he had been out of it and the world could very well have changed. His friends would be trying to find him at the very least.

His decision was made. Taking a pair of the green pants from one of the soldier's, Logan started looking for his exit.

* * *

"We are ready for extraction?" the Baron said. What may sound like a question to most was actually verification of what Strucker expected to hear. He demanded a level of competence from those under his command and if they failed him in even the most mundane of tasks he would make sure they paid for it.

"Yes, sir," the pilot answered. Inside a state of the art helicopter, the Baron and his two personal guards secured their restraints, assuring their safety during the flight. "We can take off as soon as I prime the jets."

"You have permission to extradite us from this waste of a location as soon as you're ready," the Baron replied. Wolverine had proved to be more than HYDRA could handle from this locality and the need to evacuate had quickly arisen. The Baron was slightly ashamed to admit retreat but he deeply regretted the waste of his own life even more. HYDRA would live on and his plans for Wolverine would come to fruition at another time. Of this, he was certain.

The blades began to spin faster and faster as the pilot continued his usual procedures. Beside the Baron, body armor and rifle in place, sat his guard, Honoré. Personally recruited from the French Foreign Legion by Strucker himself, Honoré had killed more men in a month than most do in a lifetime. The cold ferocity of his actions had been what caught the Baron's attention, along with his incredible stature. Honoré stood slightly over six feet tall with muscles to match. He easily put professional wrestlers to shame.

Sweat beaded on Honoré's forehead but he refused to give in to panic. He trusted his master. Whatever he had been injected him with would undoubtedly serve the Baron well. His strength hadn't left him but he felt weaker, as if his body was unsure of itself.

"Sir!" the pilot yelled back over his shoulder.

The Baron leaned forward to spy through the thin window, catching his breath upon seeing the cause of the pilot's exclamation. Muzzle flash sparked in the outer corridor that led from the helipad into the base, a sure sign on his minions fighting off the resuscitated Wolverine.

Then, like a monsoon, he exploded out of the tiny doorway and onto the open platform. His hot breath condensed in the crisp air, even catching in his throat slightly. His claws were extended with an obvious purpose, the blood staining his stolen green leggings.

Honoré and the other guard aboard the chopper both got down on one knee and slid the side hatch open, sticking their weapons out. Adjusting the setting to full-auto, both guards brought their rifles to life, blanketing the platform with streaking lead. Wolverine rolled to his left and immediately sprung up, charging the aircraft despite the guard's assault.

"Incompetents!" Strucker roared, matching the volume of the helicopter blades. The gunfire, while apparently futile, was slowing the animal down enough that they would be airborne momentarily. The bulky craft began to lift up, threatening to leave Logan behind.

Wolverine, his healing factor working overtime to seal the fresh wounds from the guard's attack, plowed across the platform as best he could, ducking left and right to try and avoid as many bullets as he could. The helicopter housing his prey was beginning to rise and fairly soon it would be out of his reach. The clips finally ran out in the guard's weapons, giving Logan the opportunity he needed to close the gap and leap at the craft. With a desperate bound, Logan rammed the claws on his right hand into the chopper's landing skid, barely hanging on as the aircraft shot up into the air.

"You're like a bad case of herpes!" the guard beside Honoré yelled.

Swinging briefly for momentum, Logan reached up with his free arm and stabbed through the guard's armor, piercing his lungs. The tips of his blades catching, Logan yanked back and forced the guard out into the open air, falling rapidly to the unforgiving ground below. Honoré moved to ram the butt of his rifle into Logan's temple but the animal was too fast, swinging once again up and into the copter.

A quick backhand from Wolverine sent Honoré up against the interior wall of the craft, his body collapsing under the internal pressure from the Baron's strange injection. It was starting to become hard to breathe. Despite Logan's smaller stature he knew exactly how to hit a bigger opponent to exact his desired response.

"Stay down if ya know what's good for--AHH!" Intense flares of pain stabbed into Logan from behind, the flesh on his back struggling to mend back together from the burning energy.

"You would be wise to take your own advice," the Baron said, his raised gauntlet still smoking from the blast he had fired. "I may not be able to kill you, dog, but I can certainly make your pain last an eternity. My Satan Claw will make sure of that, you inferior experiment."

"Experiment…" Logan weazed. Even with his mutant powers his internal organs had been fried from the Baron's potshot. He needed a moment to collect himself before ripping Strucker's throat out. "Yours or someone else's?"

"Yes," the Baron replied. "Much like Honoré here, you've been used as a weapon by most of the governments on the planet at one time or another. HYDRA seeks to do that again." Strucker stepped closer, keeping his gauntlet at the ready to intimidate his enemy. "That is all you are. A trained dog, capable of brute labor. Nothing more."

Strucker blasted Logan again, this time at point-blank range. The searing energy spilled over Logan's back, rupturing his spleen and singing a kidney. The pain was excruciating but sadly Logan had endured worse in his life. The pain helped to focus his senses, forcing his reasoning to condense into single thoughts like "get up" and "kill." His healing factor fixed the injuries slowly but surely, only to give the Baron the joy of continuing the process.

"My original plan was to simply use you to invade those sorry excuses for leaders in the New World. Despite what you may wish, you are the perfect killing machine, Logan. Virtually immortal with a bloodlust to match! Your sole reason for living is to kill."

Again the Baron's golden Satan Claw unleashed a torrential storm of pain down upon Logan, his skin baking under the discharge. Images of his shattered past flashed before his eyes: Jean Grey, Yuriko, Jubilee…Rose. He had to find them. He needed to see them. He only had a partial truth and he wouldn't allow this true monster to use him again like so many others had done.

"Watching you decimate my legions, however," Strucker continued, "altered my original plan. Even though I'm far from my deathbed, I can sense the creeping darkness coming to claim me. Fate I suppose, or perhaps a sense of my own mortality. If I were to claim your body for my own, however, there would be nothing to sway my hand! I would march across this New World, smacking down those who dared oppose me."

"No!" Logan cried in defiance. With his smoldering flesh hanging from his back, the near rapid animal swung around slashing his indestructible claws wildly. His right set caught the Baron's gauntlet, slicing it wide open and ceasing the tormenting energy. His left plunged into the Baron's chest in the exact center of the wretched serpent symbol.

Baron Wolfgang Von Strucker choked on his own blood and fell, kneeling. His eyes widened at the unfathomable action that had just occurred and he could feel his own heart begin to sputter.

"I'm my own man now," Logan said, his wounds healing before the Baron's bulging eyes. "Not even the fragments o' who I was control me. As far as I'm concerned ya can just rot in--HYUH!"

Honoré, the elite guard formerly of the French Foreign Legion, tackled Wolverine around the waist. Whatever the Baron had done to ail him had subsided for the moment, giving him enough time to recover from Logan's initial blow and fly to his master's aid. The Baron had no need to brainwash his most trusted guard. His devout loyalty came from his namesake.

That loyalty, Honoré decided, would be proven the very moment his charge had cast both Wolverine and himself out the side hatch of the helicopter. The pair spiraled down through the sky, the cold Asian ground rushing up to meet them.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. Chapter 3

WOLVERINE

Issue #3

Renaissance Man – Part Three

"Path to Discovery"

* * *

"Rose…Rose, where are you?" Logan asked the dark forest scene. 

No, not Rose. She was gone and this grove had been shattered along with fragments of his returning memory. And his name wasn't Logan, not really. He was supposed to be called something else, he was supposed to be a different person. The life he had ended up living wasn't the one intended for him. Everything was wrong, just like before…when he had awoken inside the glass tube.

How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered he had been struggling against some towering thug and falling through the air. Had he been falling? His head started to hurt as he attempted to shift through the fragments of his mind.

Logan spun around to see his surroundings swirl and change. The dark shadows and foliage melted away into a cold and sterile room, filled with stainless steel and people in lab coats. He recognized the place immediately. It was where he had been reborn the first time.

The Weapon X facility.

He stared in amazement as he witnessed the older, bald scientist in charge of the program make a few notes on his clipboard before regarding the specimen floating inside a glass stasis tube. The bald man looked on with both pride and contempt at the specimen, his eyes eagerly taking in the caged animal. To him this was a means of gathering power before his employers, not to mention the benefits it meant to his field of expertise.

"Was there trouble in acquiring him?" the bald man asked one of his many assistants.

"He subdued three of our men before finally getting knocked out from the tranq's. He's a tough little bugger."

"Excellent," the bald man replied, obviously happy at the assumed attitude of the specimen. "He responded better to the adamantium treatment than any other subject. With luck he'll become eligible for…what is that? What's going on?" he asked frantically as a small alarm sounded near the base of stasis tube.

"Biometrics indicate he--JESUS!"

Logan watched as the specimen opened his eyes and slapped his palms against the inside of the glass. It howled in pain like a hurt animal, viciously desperate for retribution. He watched as the bald man and his fellow scientists scrambled, apparently unprepared for it to be awake so soon. Logan stepped further into the room so he could get a better look at what was transpiring, as he felt strangely unafraid.

After all, what did he have to fear from himself?

The beast, a mirror image of Logan himself, growled again, this time as a reaction to an incredible pain stemming from his right arm. He watched himself scratch at the appendage in an effort to alleviate the pain but it didn't help. Drops of blood began to spurt out the top of his hand, subtly mixing with the fluid he was suspended in.

The sight was horrific as Logan watched the scene unfold from a different perspective. The memories flooded back to him as he saw his other self explode out of the tank, six long claws hacking through whatever came into his path. Equipment, tables, chairs, even people…it didn't matter what it was.

The newly freed animal eyed up Logan with dangerous intent glistening in his eyes. He had been afraid of his actions before, even scared of what he might do to those closest to him. Now, however, he was scared of himself.

A rustling wind emanated from behind the animal as its chest raised up and down, a byproduct of the physical exertion of killing. The wind began to build, blowing harder and harder and rummaging through Logan's hair. As he shared a stare with his other self, Logan brought his arms up to block the now hurricane-like wind that threatened to knock him over.

He screamed as he fought to stand tall against the vicious breeze as his other, more primal self watched on in simplistic bestial arrogance. The pressure against his body forced his arms open wide and he closed his eyes, his scream continuing to echo throughout the facility and his mind.

* * *

Logan awoke with a start, the wind still pelting his face. Confusion overtook his mind once more as his pupils dilated from the rays of sunlight brimming over the horizon. He was somehow horizontal with the annoyingly strong wind continuing its whipping assault.

He opened his mouth to speak but found it was too taxing. As his watering eyes finally came back into focus he saw for the first time the brown and green ground rushing up to meet him and it all came back to him. He was free-falling face first at several thousand feet.

Waking up in the HYDRA lab. Baron Strucker. A helicopter. Someone had knocked him out of the aircraft and sent them spiraling down through the sky. He had fallen out of many planes over the years of service within different organizations, even the X-Men. He rarely did it without a parachute or someone that could psionically lower his body. He was in trouble.

He tried to turn his neck on instinct, taking in his aerial surroundings. The gale force winds made it painful to twist his muscles but he managed to do it. He looked to his right – nothing. His left – still nothing. The ground was growing larger and larger with every passing second and it seemed like he had no options. He wasn't sure if even his incredible mutant healing factor would be enough for him to survive the impact. Then again, he had seemingly returned from the dead earlier that day.

He managed to flip over so his back was facing the approaching earth. To his surprise, directly behind him and up a proportional fifteen yards was another body also in free-fall. He squinted, trying to get the water cleared from his eyes so he could make out the shape better. He mentally swore from recognition upon seeing the uniform the man wore.

It was the HYDRA agent; a man named Honoré that had thrown him out of the helicopter and it didn't look like he had a parachute either.

Logan admired the selfless loyalty that this man had displayed in trying to keep the Baron safe but he hated him for it at the same time. HYDRA was an organization that suffocated humanity under it and the Baron was the one holding the pillow. However, the limp form of Honoré may prove useful to the mutant.

The man tactfully named Wolverine flipped back over, his face once more facing the rushing ground. The elite training he had received in his younger days as part of various black ops organizations instinctually kicked in, his arms and legs spreading as far as he could. His descent slowed slightly as the air pushed against his flattened body. It wouldn't buy him much time but hopefully it would be enough.

Tilting his head down and angling his feet up, Wolverine's now controlled fall slid him across the sky and closer to his target. The limp body of Honoré slowly came closer, almost defying the very laws of physics.

What had once been tiny dots under Logan were now starting to take shape; the clock was ticking. He estimated he only had another couple thousand feet to fall before impacting with terra firma. Finally, after wearing down his leg muscles in an attempt to use them like foils, Logan came within reach of the unconscious HYDRA agent. He lashed out, gripping his outstretched arm with a hint of accomplishment. He may actually have a chance of survival now.

Even though it caused pain to blaze through his nerves, Logan straightened his body and pushed his feet down against the roaring wind, as if he were standing among the clouds. The perspiration of his efforts was instantly blown away even though he would normally be soaked through and through. Clutching on Honoré's arm with all his strength, Logan pulled himself against the HYDRA agent that was almost two feet taller than him.

He tried to shove the agent's body under his own since anything between him and the ground at this point would be a good thing. It was like swimming against a tidal wave since the unrelenting wind kept dislodging one of his hands. When he would stretch over to grab with his left the wind would rip out his right hand, and vice versa.

He mentally swore yet again, wishing there were some less annoying way to plunge to his possible death. He reached over one last time to try and steady their fall and was almost thrown off in surprise when the hand he reached for wrapped around his wrist.

Apparently Honoré had woken up.

The large HYDRA agent tried to scream something at Logan but the wind muted any words he uttered. They grappled while falling through the air, arms and legs fighting against the pressure to sprawl and spread from the forceful winds. Wolverine struggled against the much larger man, his strength already exhausted from the day's trials.

Honoré kicked Logan in his abdominal muscles and broke the pair apart, the driving winds aiding in the split. Like water spilling through a sieve, so did Logan's lone chance of avoiding a crushing impact.

He watched as Honoré flailed his arms and legs about in shock, probably noticing for the first time the predicament the pair was in. The HYDRA foot soldier's face rapidly went through emotions: terror, confusion, helplessness, worry, and dread fear. The green of his uniform reflected the blue and white hues of the morning sky almost artistically, but neither man could actually see the beauty as their eyes were filled with horrifying visuals of their shared doom.

Logan again tilted his body forward to angle his trajectory how he saw fit. The winds whipped around his body and shoved him back towards Honoré, a tense look of resignation in his eyes. The former soldier of the French Foreign Legion locked his own eyes onto the falling mutant and tried to steady himself as best he could for what was to come. The pair slammed into each other again, this time both fully aware of what the implications would be if each failed in their task.

Honoré clutched Wolverine's wrist between his massive fingers and squeezed. Logan, in retaliation, mirrored the maneuver. The ground, a flat wall fast approaching, was now close enough that the pair could make out specifics in the landscape. Logan pushed forward in an effort to gain whatever leverage he could in order to place Honoré beneath him, but quickly realized that without something tangible under his feet that it was a lost cause. Honoré was simply too strong.

_SNKT!_

Wolverine extended the things that made him the best at what he does. The silver claws shot out from the backs of both his hands, catching and bouncing the stray rays of sunlight that were able to pierce the clouds. Honoré opened his eyes as wide as he could at the sight of the strange and unusual weapons. He knew that even though he held the advantage in weight that Logan could easily slice him with either hand.

Logan, docile against his usual personality, pulled back his left hand and stabbed the chest of Honoré. His unbreakable blades dove into the flesh of his adversary like a surgical strike, positioned exactly where the doctor wanted the cut to appear. To his surprise, the tips of his claws only pushed into Honoré a few centimeters without breaking the skin. Somehow, his instruments of death hadn't accomplished his hostile desire. Somehow, Honoré was able to withstand the pressure of three razor sharp and indestructible claws stabbing his chest.

It was Logan's turn to show a plethora of emotion. He had met certain individuals over the years that had proven tough enough to stop his rage but they were few and far between. The fact that Honoré himself seemed surprised at his ability to stay alive suggested that he was just as confused as Logan, possibly even more so. Out of all the people able to live through an adamantium assault, there was usually one common denominator: magic.

Logan had to toss away his train of thought as Honoré again kicked free of his grasp, this time his strength backed by a dose of shock. Wolverine fell head over heels toward the waiting Earth, this time unable to reach his fellow castaway in time to partially block the fall.

The cold and unforgiving arms of Mother Earth reached out and caught the pair of soldiers, her touch anything but delicate.

* * *

"I don't really care if the hairball is awake or not," a strange voice stated, a touch of sarcasm in his tone, "you put his friggin' body on top of my stash. How am I supposed to get to my stash without touching his yuckiness? It's not like there's a Starbucks everywhere you turn these days, now is it? I want my damn Tazo Chai mix!"

Several other murmurs reached Logan's ears. He tried to make out what they were saying but found it almost impossible to distinguish one voice from another. He opened his eyes and sat up, preparing for whatever was happening around him despite his confusion of where he was and what had happened after his fall.

"Sweet grammy molasses!" the irritated man before him exclaimed. "Hairball's up and moving, kids!"

Logan heard the indistinguishable sound of a blade being drawn. He sprung up to find himself in a crude tent that seemed large enough for at least four people to lay comfortably in. It wasn't too far off from the types of tents he spent many nights in as part of various military organizations. Small cases were strewn about the dirt floor, each marked haphazardly with chalk.

The sword wielder before him pointed the tip of his blade into Logan's face, which quickly elicited the _SNKT_ sound that his enemies heard all too often. Wolverine steadied his footing and was ready to launch himself at his newfound adversary when a young woman suddenly came between them.

"Wade!" she seemed to scold at the sword man. "Cut it out. Stand down or I'll tell Marrow."

"Damn it, Alyssa," Wade replied childishly. "Spoil all my fun, why don't you?"

Wade, a tall and physically fit man draped in red with various scars covering his face, sheathed his sword and backed up to the tent's entrance. The woman who had intervened, Alyssa, turned her attention back toward Logan, a look of apologetic pity draped on her face. "Sorry about that," she said. "He just gets riled up sitting here waiting. We all do. You feeling okay?"

"Fine," Logan replied curtly.

"We, uh, sort of found you out in the field a few kilometers back," she continued although obviously unsure of herself and the situation. "You were in pretty bad shape, although that didn't seem to keep for long. You healed overnight practically."

"Hey!" Wade broke in. "I remember you! Wolf or something like that, right? Got yourself a healing factor, huh? Join the club, buddy."

Logan turned his attention back to the crimson sword wielder. His memories, even though recently given an overhaul, still retained a semblance of his former life. Images quickly flooded his mind as he matched the deeply scarred face and ignorant attitude of Wade to someone from his past.

"Deadpool," he finally said after a brief silence. "Perfect. Just perfect. Mind telling me what the hell is going on 'round here?"

"Fancy yourself a wise guy, eh?" Deadpool asked rhetorically. "You know me…do I know you? Well, I mean. Oh God!" he gasped. "Were we…ya know…?"

"Shut it, Wade," Alyssa said, an air of hindrance in her voice.

"You've got to be kiddin' me," Logan said under his breath. His muscles were sore but he was feeling better by the second, a benefit of his mutant powers.

"Ignore him." Alyssa handed a canteen filled with refreshing water over to Logan, who took it graciously and drowned his throat. "His mind has been so screwed up over the years that he's good for little more than hard labor."

"I resent that," Deadpool proclaimed, waving his index finger in the air. "What's a big of insanity between friends?"

"He used to wear a mask all the time until he had a run in with a kodiak. He's just our comic relief around here so don't mind the comments. Anyway, when we found you we weren't sure exactly what to do with you. We saw you drop and hit the ground and figured you were dead, but obviously that wasn't true. Do you--"

"Where are we?" Logan asked.

"Uh, we're a little unsure." Alyssa bowed her head slightly and shifted her weight to the side, thinking. "Best we can figure we're somewhere west of the Kazakhstan border. We're actually getting ready to pack things up and head out soon."

"We're off to see the wizard!" Deadpool commented with a slightly disturbing smile.

Logan handed the canteen back to Alyssa and took a seat on the small cot they had laid him on to recover. He tried to piece together some kind of map in his head, attempting to place where he was in the world in comparison to where he needed to be. He then realized that despite his wish to find whatever friends he could, he didn't really know where to go. Ever since waking up in the HYDRA base things had been happening so fast.

"Who are you?" he asked finally.

"Whooooo are you?" Deadpool sang. "Who, who? Who, who? Whooooo are you? Damn, that's a fine tune. Makes me miss the good old days when listening to classic rock was hip and cool. Not that I'm any less of a hipsterdoofus myself."

"Wade!" Alyssa shouted over him. "Go check the provisions again."

"But my Tazo Chai!"

One last angered look from Alyssa and Deadpool threw his hands up in surrender. The mercenary whirled around, his torn red cloak billowing behind him as he stomped out of the tent and back into the campground. Logan caught sight of several dozen ragged people as Deadpool flipped back the tarp pretending to be a door, all of them dirty and tired.

"We're a collection of refugees," Alyssa said, finally answering Logan's question. "Anyone we bump into along the road we take in as best we can. It's the New World out there but it's still a huge mess. Technology was mostly wiped out during the invasion and even more so during the war. Wade wandered around China for a few months until we caught him trying to steal our ammo storage lockers. He still won't tell us how he got all the way out here. Most people that travel with us keep to themselves. Privacy isn't easy to come by when you're living with sixty people. We keep together and stay alive. Like a family."

"War…" Logan muttered. "The Martians? Are you runnin' from them? Where's the central resistance hidin' at? Are you--"

"Relax," Alyssa said soothingly. "The war is over. We won."

The final moments of his previous life flooded to the front of his mind. He remembered piloting a ship and suddenly being blasted apart, his molecules ripped away from each other. He leaned forward on the cot, catching his breath as the memories returned to him. Visions of loud noises, bright lights, and lots of movement clouded his senses as if they were real. Then, just as quickly as the recall had come, it dissipated.

"Are you okay?" Alyssa asked.

"Fine…just…" he turned away without finishing his sentence, his thoughts focusing on those that were with him in his last days. "The Martians are all gone?"

"I think so," Alyssa answered. "Hard to keep informed out here in the rough. Maybe if…hold on."

Alyssa went to the entry and peered outside into the camp. She quickly pulled her head back in and shut the tarp again, a look of worry and fear on her face.

"What's goin' on?" Logan asked as he stood. He knew the look on her face. It was the look someone got when things had gotten beyond their control. It was the look of scared uncertainty.

"Your friend," she replied. "Your friend is awake and screaming in the middle of camp."

"Friend?" he asked, confused yet again.

"The man that had fallen with you. He's…he's awake now, too."

A crate crashed against the side of their tent, buckling the flimsy material inward. Logan pushed passed Alyssa and ran through the entry and into the campground, shocked at what he saw. Honoré was indeed up and moving, seemingly unhurt and tearing up the compound. Deadpool ran up the side of a wooden cart, launching himself into the air toward Honoré, his blade again drawn.

Honoré, his own mind damaged by whatever drugs the Baron had pumped into him along with the trauma of falling to his "death," stood tall in the face of Deadpool. His massive arm simply shot out and grabbed the mercenary by the neck, catching him in midair.

Logan allowed his claws to slip out as he ran across the camp. Honoré drove Deadpool's head straight into the ground, knocking him out cold. Wolverine fell into a roll and sprung up behind the HYDRA soldier, his claws scraping against his back. He expected that to be the end of it with gouts of blood spraying over the ground…but nothing happened. This was no ordinary human.

Honoré spun and slapped Logan away with the back of his right hand, his strength impressing the mutant. As Wolverine tucked his legs up and recovered from the toss, he noticed a redheaded woman rush passed him and straight toward the angered soldier. She wore a green and blue skintight costume that looked as worn as the people within the camp. Bones extruded from her body like pins stuck in a cushion, as if they were foreign to her body.

The woman ducked under the bulldozer arms of Honoré and jumped onto his back, wrapping one arm around his neck in a choke hold. "Easy, killer!" she said, almost mockingly.

The redhead reached her free arm around behind her back and grasped one of the bone protrusions. In a sickening display of movement, she ripped one of the bones out and slapped it across her enemy's neck, pulling it tight with her other hand. Her face scrunched up as the strain showed from the effort of cutting off his air supply. Honoré whirled back and forth, struggling to breath in and free himself, but it was no use. The redhead had more leverage and was small enough to dodge his large hands grasping behind him.

Honoré slumped to the ground, his eyes slowly closing as his breath gave out. The sweet oxygen now deprived from his lungs, the mountain of a man fell forward and hit the ground with a thud.

The redhead stepped back and allowed two people that looked like guards rush up to Honoré. Alyssa, having left the safety of the tent, ran up beside Logan, her breath heavy from the excitement.

"That's Marrow," Alyssa informed Logan. "She's our leader. We probably couldn't survive without her."

Honoré was dragged away back into another tent, a pair of steel clamps over his wrists that were chained to a collar around his neck. Hopefully it would be enough to withhold the HYDRA soldier from another outburst when he awoke. Of course, there was still the question of how he was able to survive the fall in the first place.

"Show's over, everyone. Let's pack it up!" Marrow told the gathered crowd of refugees. "We're safe, don't worry. We're on the move at dawn. We travel light and move swiftly, so don't anyone bring something that isn't necessary for life. Get a good night sleep everyone and be ready to walk in the morning."

"We're off to see the wizard!" Deadpool recanted happily, up and moving with no bruises to show, as he balanced his sword on one finger.

Wolverine looked around at the gathered refugees. He felt for them and knew they were exerting all they could to survive in a world that had moved along without them. It was like they were experiencing what he was only to a lesser degree. If he had any chance at finding some answers then the place to start was with the Council.

Until he got those answers he would have to move along with the others gathered here. At the very least he could pull his own weight and help them out. Logan looked around the camp one more time before heading back into his tent, intent on finding something useful to do and take his mind off his recent troubles.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED


	4. Chapter 4

**Wolverine: The End #4**

**Renaissance Man - Conclusion**

**"What the Future Holds."**

* * *

"No."

If there wasn't a patch covering one of the man's eyes, Nick Fury would have blinked from having his offer thrown back in his face. Instead he just settled for wrestling with one of his trademark cigars between his teeth.

"Logan," Fury said, his gruff voice tinged slightly from the echo provided by the metallic walls, "I understand your reluctance to get caught up in everything again—"

"It's a little more than that, Fury," the former X-Man replied. "Things have changed, and not for the better."

The pair of men, each of them proud warriors from different eras, stared each other down. After moving for the last few weeks on foot through Western Asia to find the roaming Council that kept order in this New World, Wolverine was happy to have a warm place to sleep that also provided hot meals. Marrow's expedition, while necessary for his journey, had been cruder than even the least funded of operations. What he came for, however, were answers. Not what Nick Fury was proposing to him.

Treading across Asia had enabled Logan to get caught up on world events. Apparently most of Europe had been encased in some sort of mystical barrier, closing it off from the rest of the world. Recently, a conflict had brought that barrier crashing down, once again connecting the continent with the remnants of a broken planet. Walking across the wastes of Asia and seeing firsthand how vicious the alien invasion had really been had startled him, mixing and melding with his own fears of how primal humanity can actually be.

At least he had Alyssa with him during the journey. Not only had he come to rely on her more and more as he got caught up on things, but she was one of the few people he had known whose soul seemed to be pure. He respected that, especially now that his own tarnished soul had been rebooted.

The Council was comprised of a small group of leaders, renowned around the world for their expertise and fortitude. Currently in Moscow where Logan and the rest of the wandering pack of refugees had met up with them, the Council was overlooking the integration of the captured Martian technology. If anyone would be able to connect him with his lost friends from before the war, it would be the Council.

Thoughts of the war swept through Logan's tired mind. He, along with most of his fellow X-Men, had been targeted and wiped out near the beginning of the conflict. His memories were few and fair between, as his memories had yet again been shifted around inside the recesses of his mind. He was tired…not only from the many decades of fighting other people's wars, but from being used as a tool. It seemed like there was always someone around each corner that planned to use him as a means to their own ends.

"I didn't trek halfway across the goddamn world to sign up with your operation. I came here to find answers along with my friends."

"You know I can't make hollow promises, Logan," Fury said. "We're doing all we can to find whoever is left from the X-Men, but it will take time. I'm only asking you to help us out while we search."

"Who promoted you to world leader?" Logan asked gruffly. "Last I checked you were still struggling to hold SHIELD together."

"Like you said, things have changed." Fury inhaled a deep puff of cigar smoke and let it out slowly. "And not always for the better. Politics ain't ever been my specialty, but someone needs to be on this Council that can work with the troops. It's a whole new ballgame out there, Logan. The Martians are mostly gone, but a few resistance cells have been popping up recently. I don't like working with guys like Doom, but the fact is that we need people like him."

Logan scoffed. Victor Von Doom was one of the worst tyrants he had ever known, and hearing that the likes of him was on the Council meant that the world really had changed, leaving him behind.

A long pause passed between the two men. They had been through many conflicts together, each of them well passed their natural years in life. In a way they were both outdated, but they were also too stubborn to just sit back and watch a younger crowd take the reins.

"The answer's still no," Logan replied. "I'm not gonna get sucked into playing soldier for the Council, especially not when Doom is involved."

Fury sighed. "Look. You've been roughin' it the last few weeks. I understand that you're tired and you just want to get things set right for yourself. I respect that. We can do a formal debriefing later with the Council to collect information on HYDRA. Speaking of which, what can you tell me about that prisoner you brought in with your marching troupe?"

"Name's Honoré," Logan replied. "That's all I know. He was one of Strucker's private guards or something. Tougher than hell, he is. Took one solid shot with the claws straight into his chest and kept going. Might be a mutant."

"Our lab boys say his DNA was screwed with."

"I couldn't tell you anything about that," Logan said. "I wasn't stopping to read the paperwork while I cut my way through the HYDRA base."

The man called Wolverine stood up, throwing his shirt on and walking toward the exit from his quarters. He brushed by Fury and opened the door, stepping through the metallic doorframe and into the sterile hallway. He stopped to look over his shoulder at the former Director of SHIELD operations, nodding slightly.

"Got an extra one of those?" he asked.

Fury slipped another cigar out from his breast pocket and tossed it to Logan. "There's no smoking in here," he replied with a hint of sarcasm.

"Course there isn't."

He placed the cigar between his lips and tasted the nearly forgotten signature flavor of the brand. His memories may have been fiddled with for the umpteenth time, but he would never forget something that had been ingrained into his past. He caught the lighter that Fury tossed him, igniting the tip of the already cut cigar, and pulled in a mouthful of the thick smoke.

"Let me know when the Council is ready for me," Logan said as he exhaled. "I'll be around."

He left Fury behind and stalked down the hallway, turning a corner to head to the basement. He didn't want to wait on the Council to provide him with answers when he could try and extract some himself. He passed a sign directing him to the prison facility in the large, sprawling basement and quickened his pace.

* * *

"Remove yourselves from my path!" Honoré commanded the guards.

Two of the guards came out him, nightsticks in hand. One of them clubbed him across the back of the neck while the other tried to take out his legs, but they each found themselves sprawled on the ground before they knew what had hit them.

The cowering prisoner in the corner moved toward the cell door. He had been asleep when they had brought Honoré in to the containment cell, and upon waking up had found that their personalities clashed horrifically. The captured HYDRA agent was demanding to be freed, and his cellmate was demanding to be taken away for his own safety. Madness blanketed Honoré's eyes as he bent into a rage that would surely kill all near him.

"Stand down," Logan said as he approached the bars of the cell. "Don't make me come in there, bub."

"You!"

Honoré kicked the guards away with one sweep of his foot, brushing them back like so much refuse. Logan swung around the cell entrance and popped out his claws, leveling a gaze at the larger man.

"We both know you ain't got a prayer here," Logan said. "There's a strike team on their way and if you want to stay conscious for much longer you'll calm down and ease up on the locals."

Honoré glanced back and forth at the twin sets of silvery claws protruding from the tops of Logan's hands. They were all almost a foot in length, threatening in their general appearance. He had felt their touch before, but no longer had fear of it. Not after what the Baron had done to him.

"Please, do not be so coy. I will break you and whatever army you have behind you, for the glory of HYDRA!"

"Hate to break it to you, but your days of being a snake are over. Strucker's dead. You saw me gut him on the helicopter just before you catapulted us out into the friggin' abyss. Even if HYDRA manages to pull it together, they have no direction. The Council will wipe them out before they can get organized, thanks mostly to the info I've already given them."

He was bluffing, of course, but Honoré had no way of knowing that. If he could get the terrorist to believe that the Council was getting ready to take HYDRA down for good, he might be able to persuade him to reveal something. It was a stretch, but Logan didn't exactly have a plethora of options.

"And what would you have me say?" the bulky man called Honoré asked. "I have no knowledge of your past."

Wolverine stood opposite the former member of the French Foreign Legion, a set of electrified bars between them. Keeping the large figure of Honoré confined during their travels had been difficult. Often times they had to keep him drugged while they moved during the day. A few times he had overpowered them, but with the combined efforts of himself, Deadpool, and Marrow they had been able to keep him from leveling their efforts.

"Don't give me that shit," Logan shot back. "Plus, who said anything about me? I thought we were talking about you here."

Honoré shifted his stance. He looked around the room once more as he realized that he had let something slip that he shouldn't have.

"You were close to Strucker. You HYDRA guys always stay close; you know what's going on. Give me some answers and I'll put in a good word for you with the higher-ups around here. Maybe it will save you a trip to the gas chamber."

Honoré looked around his cell, obviously uncomfortable in the six-by-ten room. He was a large man, easily clearing two feet over Logan's head, and hated to be confined like most men his size. The majority of his HYDRA uniform had been stripped away and replaced with a pair tan overalls, making him easily recognizable if he were to escape. He slowly pulled in a deep breath as his eyes worked their way around the small room for the hundredth time.

"Why should I provide you with information?" Honoré muttered. "I am HYDRA. You are the enemy. My loyalty--"

"Is misplaced. The cavalry isn't coming. It's a new world these days and politics aren't as forgiving as they used to be. Your execution won't be publicized and there's no media to make you into a martyr. I'm your only shot at freedom."

The claws that were his trademark slipped back into Logan's forearms, the wounds sealing back over them quickly thanks to his mutant healing factor. A group of guards quickly ran around the corner of the cellblock and ran up to the chamber, but Logan waved them off as he waited for Honoré's reply.

"Fine," he finally said. "What do you wish to know?"

"First, I need some info on you and HYDRA."

Honoré sighed. "Fine," he said again. "I am…_was_ one of the elite in HYDRA's ranks, assigned to be the Baron's personal bodyguard. When you liberated yourself from our confines we evacuated, but not before the Baron injected me with something."

"And that's how you got so damn pliable?"

"Martian technology, I believe. The black market is widely open to its uses, and HYDRA is privy to the majority of it."

"Okay, next question: where the hell did you guys dig me up from?"

"When your vessel was struck down by the initial Martian invasion, HYDRA swept in and confiscated your skeleton. We had been tracking you and your comrades, the X-Men, for quite some time. When your ship crashed we seized the opportunity, replacing your skeleton with that of another, leaving no trace of our presence."

"Whose skeleton? Not like there's a large market for adamantium-laced bones. The survival rate ain't high enough."

Honoré leaned in closer, his eyes still shifting back and forth around the room. "I believe you knew him," Honoré said. "His name was Creed. Victor Creed."

Wolverine instantly flashed back to days gone by. Memories flooded through him from hearing the name, acting as a trigger. Since his rebirth at the hands of HYDRA, his mind had tried to repair itself. The process of his own brain regrowing inside his skull had nearly driven him to insanity, but in the end a good junk of his life had been restored to him.

Victor Creed. Sabertooth.

He remembered running through the wooded lands of Canada with Creed, before both of them had undergone the changes inflicted by the Weapon X program. It had been a different world back then, a different time and a different war. They had been partners in various missions for the government, kindred spirits before their own mutant genes made them susceptible to manipulation.

"How do I know you ain't lying?"

"What would I gain from lying?" Honoré stated. "My life is my own now, subject to whatever fate you and your…friends decide on. To lie would be to risk signing my own death warrant."

Logan contemplated the information, pondering what exactly he should do next. He hadn't thought as far as his next course of action if he actually succeeded in getting information out of the HYDRA agent. He needed to think things over.

"Okay, I believe you. Sit tight and I'll see what I can do about getting you a little leeway. You keep the info on HYDRA coming and you'll be out of here in no time."

Honoré opened his mouth to speak, but Logan had already turned to leave the cell. The guards waited for him to exit before closing the door and locking it, ensuring that the large prisoner would stay incarcerated. Honoré watched the lock fall into place, feeling the shame of betraying his brethren for a simple pardon.

* * *

"So I guess this means you have a decision to make," Alyssa said.

"Yeah," Logan replied. "S'pose so."

Alyssa's quarters were very similar to his, the only real difference being better lighting. In fact, the entire building looked the same from room to room. It had been constructed quickly with little regard to artistic beauty. It was a military bunker, put in place quickly when the territory had been taken back from the Martian invaders. Right now it was serving mostly to house refugees, a large chunk of which was comprised of Marrow's following.

"Are you going to stay?" she asked. She brushed a few strands of hair out of her face, catching the ambient light with her highlights.

"Can't say for sure. There's a lot going on in my head these days. Before you find me…before I hauled around with you and the others, I led a very different life. Hell, who am I kidding? I didn't even really have a life. Just a mixture o' false memories. At least, not that I remembered."

She motioned for him to sit down beside her on the bed. He complied, leaning forward with his elbows propped up on his knees. His head hung low as he mulled over how he felt both liberated and trapped at the same time.

"Before Strucker and his lab monkeys got a hold of me I only had a faint clue o' who I really was. My past…well, it's a lot different than I figured it was, Alyssa. And the worst part is that I only got a few fragments of it back. For a couple of moments I had my whole background opened up to me, and then it was ripped right back out. I have a few impressions left around in here, but other than that I'm just lost."

"What do you remember?"

Logan paused, taking in a deep breath before answering. "A large house up on a hill. A dog. A girl."

Alyssa blinked. "A girl? Who? Do you remember her name or what she looked like?"

"I…she had red hair, as blazing as the sun. Rose. Her name was Rose. She's…I think she's dead now."

Another long silence passed between them. Having journeyed together across hundreds of miles of rough terrain, watching their backs carefully from whatever dangers the wilderness held, they had become closer. Alyssa had helped him get reacquainted with the world that had moved on by, showing him a place that he might be able to fit into. He was very grateful to her, and had come to rely on her for help in making important decisions.

"I'm not sure if this is where I'm supposed to be now," Logan finally continued. "Fury says he could use my help with--"

"Don't worry about what he or the Council thinks you should do," Alyssa broke in. "They aren't going to worry about your priorities when they have a New World to run. They can't help it. You need to worry about yourself here, Logan. You can't run to their aid if you aren't even sure of where you stand now." She reached over and put her hand on his forearm. "It isn't fair to you."

"I feel like there are still things I need to do," he replied. "After talking with the HYDRA agent…there are some things that just ain't sitting well with me. There's more to the story, and I need to find out what it is. Fury could help me with that."

Logan closed his eyes and breathed. Ever since reawakening inside the test chamber back in the HYDRA base, he had felt a steady balance between his animal self and the man he was supposed to be. He no longer felt the pangs of the wild hunt beckoning him to take a life, or the unfathomable rage that drove him to act without mercy. It was like a veil had been lifted, revealing who he should have been before the madness entered his life. He felt anger against those that had stripped valuable things away from him, but that anger was controlled and aimed at the appropriate targets.

He was no longer a renegade mutant, or a wetworks spy, or even a superhero.

He was just a man. A man with power, but a man nonetheless.

"Alyssa," he said, turning to face her. "Thank you."

Logan leaned in to kiss her. The two embraced, allowing themselves to steal away a small moment of ignorance to the outside world, the New World, that somehow seemed foreign to them both. Finally breaking away from her, Logan moved to exit the small quarters. He had made a decision.

* * *

The administration office on the top floor of the building looked just like all the others: grey, plain, and empty. No one had gotten around to filling it with a personal touch yet. Nick Fury sat behind the desk, having usurped the office for his use while the Council closed its business in Moscow. Logan stood before him, his hands clasped behind his back in a strangely appropriate at-ease stance.

"That wasn't the deal I had in mind," Fury said coldly as he lit up another cigar. It was his third of the day.

"Don't matter," Wolverine replied. "That's the deal I'm offering."

"So let me get this straight," Fury said as he placed both his elbows on the desk. "You want me to sanction your own strike force. You want the Council to sign off on a known rogue agent, a wandering mutant, and whoever else you dig up. You want access to our already meager supply of troops, along with their records. All that, and you also feel the need to give me a direct order to make finding whatever X-Men I can a top priority of the Council?"

"Not the Council. Just you. I trust you, Nick. You won't screw me over just to make something politically correct. As for my team, Deadpool isn't exactly rogue. Not anymore. If anything we need to keep an eye on him. And Marrow isn't a wanderer, she's a survivor. I can use that."

"What exactly did you have in mind for your little strike force?"

"There are still pockets of Martian resistance, right? Well, give me the intel and I'll give you your leftover aliens. I'll only need access to your militia and records to round out my team."

Fury puffed out another long stream of cigar smoke. He smirked and shook his head slightly, tilting it to one side. "In other words you want the Council to let you create a black ops outfit. Shit, Logan. This isn't a Cold War. We won the damn thing, remember?"

Logan remained stoic, but Fury flinched at his own words. He realized that Logan didn't remember. He couldn't. He was out of the action while those he cared about had been slaughtered or lost. That's when Fury pieced it all together, making sense out of Logan's actions.

"Alright," Fury said. "I'll need to make clearances…talk it over, and go through a dozen meetings, but you have my support. Pull your team together and I'll take care of my end of the bargain. Good to have you back, Logan."

Logan nodded and turned to leave. He opened the door to exit, pausing. He turned back to face Fury, saying, "Logan died when the Martians brought his plane down. My name's Howlett. James Howlett."

The door shut behind Howlett, sealing his deal with Fury along with cementing his place in the New World.

* * *

END


End file.
